The Science of Memory
by xx.trelane
Summary: AU. Little John recalls his childhood-and his closest friend; he returns to his childhood home and meets her years later. Nothing is the same.
1. Prologue

**Title**: The Science of Memory.

**Character**[**s**]: Read it.

**Pairings **[**if any**]: John|OC [friendship].

**Arthur's Notes**: Slightly AU. Made it so Little John 'grew up' in Nottingham, and the like. Also gave him more history as to why Friar Tuck was always on his heels during the movie. What better way than imputing a girl? Namely Tuck's daughter. Now, before anyone goes off on me-I see it that Tuck wasn't always a 'friar'; nobody's born into priesthood. He could have had a family-then turned to the church afterward. Title is the quote that Robin told John during the 'cup and rock' game; which seems to fit for this fiction.

**Story Type**: AU; Friendship|Hurt.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but Violet.

**Plot Summary**: [AU] Little John recalls his childhood-and his closest friend; he returns to his childhood home and meets her years later. Nothing is the same. [John|OC; friendship]

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**Prologue**;;

The mid-afternoon was cloudy; it was going to rain in Nottingham, but that did not stop the children of the small town from playing. Two children-one of eight years of age-the other ten; played laughing outside in the small field, just a bit away from Nottingham Abbey. "It's your turn to watch Thomas, Violet." the little boy said, handing the big Irish potato he held in his hands; to the brunette girl beside him.

"Okay, but you have to go fight the dragon and keep him from getting into the house." the little girl named Violet said; pointing to the big barrel of hay a few feet away. "You're the papa, John. You have to save us from the dragon!" she nodded.

"Okay. I'll kill it with my sword!" the boy named John said, picking up a stick and holding it up. Showing her, a big smile on his face, before attacking the 'dragon' made of hay. The girl grinned and gasped-holding the big potato in her arms.

John Little and Violet of Dover, these two children, they were attached to the hip. They had grown up together. His father was hardly in his life; and her mother had died when she was a baby. There were many complications to both of their lives, but they were too young to understand this. His father left him and his mother when he was younger; her father was the local Friar and beekeeper. They did not understand the hard times of their parents life; but they seemed not to be interested in these thing. They were only children. Playing childish games; at what they 'thought' what family was supposed to be.

The rain had finally started to fall; and John could see his mother coming up from over the hill. "Little John! Where are you? John? We have to leave. It's time to go." turning to Violet, John gave a confused look; before shrugging, as he frowned.

"I have to go." he called to his best friend. Waving to her, as he raced to his mother, who was motioning to her son, with a small frown on her face. Violet watched as her friend had raced off; and waved good-bye.

Feeling the small droplets fall from the sky, Violet turned back to the Abbey; before seeing Friar Tuck-her own father-coming out of the church; wearing his beekeepers outfit-along with his habit. "Papa!" Violet called, before going up to her father. Turning back, to look at where her friend had stood; "Where are they going?"

Tuck did not answer and just frowned. "They're leaving."

"Where? Where are the going? Are the going home?" Violet questioned her father. He had no answers for her; what could he tell her? He didn't have the heart to tell her that her closest friend was moving away-far away-to Edinburgh, and probably would never come back.

"A new home, they're moving away from Nottingham." he replied, before feeling the need to take his daughter by the hand. Violet gave her father a confused look; before frowning. Sometimes parents were cruel to their children, and did not tell them the story as to 'why', but in time, they'd understand it was for the best.

Tuck had lead Violet to the town; the rain falling softly. There was no thunder or lightening with this passing storm. Just rain.

John had made his way with his mother, along with his thing already packed; as he followed her to the wagon. "Where are we going, mum?" the boy asked his mother. John's mother did not have the heart to tell her son, they were leaving. Going to Edinburgh, away from what was happening in Nottingham. So they could have a better life.

"On a trip. We're going to be staying with aunt Berta in Edinburgh." the mother replied, now putting a few baskets of things into the wagon; pointing to a bundle of cloth for her son to put into the wagon.

"I don't want to go visit aunt Berta. I want to stay here and play." John said in disapproval of his mother. Tossing the bundle into the wagon, annoyingly.

"We have to." his mother said, now picking the boy up and placing him into the wagon; before she heard a familiar voice calling her.

"Miss Little-" it was Friar Tuck, and his daughter; "-I just thought it was only right for the children to say their good-byes, before you leave." he said. The elder Little nodded, before finishing up her packing; Tuck helping her with her things.

John sat disgruntled in the wagon, before looking down seeing his best friend at his feet, which brought a grin to his face. "Where are you going, John?" his best friend asked.

"To visit my aunt Berta in Edinburgh." he replied to her.

Violet frowned; the young girl didn't know where Edinburgh was and it showed on her face that she didn't know. "Where's Edinburgh? How far is it?" she asked, now turning to her father-whom patted her shoulder.

"Far away dear. We need to let them finish up packing for their trip. Now, say good-bye, Violet. We don't want to keep them awaiting."

Violet turned to look at John again; confused she tilted her head; "I'll keep Thomas safe 'til you get back, promise." she nodded, holding the potato tightly in her arms. Her best friend was leaving her-and not coming back. She did not realized this now-but they wouldn't see each-other again-unless by a miracle of God.

John frowned deeply before nodding; "Okay. You promise?" he asked her-she nodded.

"Yeah. Promise." she smiled, still hugging to potato.

It was then that Miss Little sat next to her son on the wagon; a frown flooding her face. Tuck had the exact reaction on his face, but he forced a smile to appear. "Safe travels. Many blessing. We'll keep you both in our prayers." he said, before waving the Little family off.

As the wagon managed to ride off; Violet too a few steps forward-watching her friend leave. John managed to look toward his mother-then toward the fading childhood friend of his, waving. "Goodbye Violet!" he called to her. Unsure of how long he'd be gone, but he did not know, it would be for a long time. Too long.

"Goodbye John!" he heard the brunette call to him, waving with a frown on his face. He was hopeful that his stay in Edinburgh wouldn't last long; but he did not know that this would be the last time he'd see of his best friend-for a long time.

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**A/N**: End of the prologue|flashback. More to come soon.


	2. One Potato

**Arthur's Note**: Here's chapter one. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything, but Violet.

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Thirteen long years later John Little found himself in the Holy Land, fighting the war. He had seen many things during his time in the war. He had grown up, he had became a man-a big man, one that would send any would-be attackers away, just by his size. When he had met Robin Longstride, Allan A'Dayle, and Will Scarlett; he had done things that-well would be considered wrong by the King's law. He found himself impersonating a knight-and a royal guard to the recently fallen King himself. All as a last wish to a dying man he did not know.

"Nottingham." he heard the dying man say in his last breath. None of Longstride's men had heard of the town, except John. He had heard about it, that he had. His memory of the place was vague, he did not remember it in it's entirety.

"Have any of you heard of this Nottingham place?" he heard the redheaded Welshman say.

Allan A'Dayle shook his head; "No, but he did give us a map. That Loxley fellow. It should be enough. Right Robin?"

Longstride said nothing, as John managed to find himself drowning in his own thoughts. Trying to place the town of Nottingham in his memory, but found nothing but vague faces. Ones he couldn't remember. One of a little girl and her potato-and that itself worried John. Why was the little girl haunting his mind? He made note, not to mention this to anyone, or they just think of him as daft. He wouldn't allow this vague memory of a girl and a potato ruin his mind.

"Didn't you grow up there, Little John?" Robin stated, looking at the map, then to the bigger of the men.

John said nothing, still in deep thought. He saw a small image of the little girl; 'You have to save me and Thomas from the dragon, John!' her voice rang clearly in his head. He saw her hugging a potato-but he didn't understand why.

"John?" Robin stated, approaching the unsettling quiet man.

John had snapped out of the small memory; and shook his head. Situating his sling, and taking a tight grasp of his quarterstaff. He blinked, "Aye, I did, but that was a long time ago." he replied to Longstride.

Longstride nodded to John; but it was Scarlett who spoke "Do you know the way there from here?"

John sighed deeply and shook his head. "Aye, but it's not that easy." he stated, looking about the wood around them; "I have not step foot there in many years."

Scarlett scoffed; "Are you sure Robin? Letting a Scot lead the way to a town we never been before? It's like trusting to lead a horse to water-thinking it will drink. You can not be sure." Scarlett was not about to trust John to lead him anywhere. They had issue in the past, and they were far from settled.

"We have to Will." was the only words Longstride spoke on the subject, before he motioned with his hand to John, so he could lead the way.

John just nodded his head; before turning to the wood. Still clearly picturing the little girl with the potato in his mind. 'I'll keep Thomas safe 'til you get back, promise.' her voice called in his mind. He furrowed his brow then shook the thought of the little girl out of his head, and pressed forward to Nottingham.

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"Violet!" the voice of Friar Tuck rang out through the small abbey in Nottingham; the sleeping young woman perked her head up from the church pew. "Are you listening?"

Violet of Dover had grown up. Thirteen years had came and past since her closest friend had left her for Edinburgh, with his family. She had grown up taking care of herself, and helped her father with his churchly duties, along with his beekeeping. She grew up to be a beautiful young woman; one that any man would have courted-if given the chance, but none succeed. Not with the watchful eye of her father about. He wasn't a 'churchy' friar; often turning the other cheek to others sexual escapades, but he drew the line when it came to his beloved daughter.

"I'm listening." she said, in reality, she hadn't been. It was a muggy Sunday afternoon-and not many people were attending church since the Sheriff can taxed them, even for things of a churchly nature-people were loosing father, but Tuck pressed forward to keep Violet open to the church.

"Of course you are." Tuck looked down at her, before Violet's stomach grumbled, loud enough for both to hear. "Hungry I see? Well the soup's on in the kitchen. Might want to go add some potatoes, but it's ready. Help yourself." he offered.

Getting up, Violet nodded in thanks to her father. "Thanks papa." she grinned; kissing the jovial friar's cheek, before going off to the kitchen part of the abbey. Violet was still a child at heart. Exporative, independent, curious.

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As John Little had lead Longstride, Scarlett, and A'Dayle into the outskirts of Nottingham; he tried to place the part of town he was in, but couldn't. Not entirely. Unmounting his horse, the rest followed-aside from Longstride, who had his own journey he had to pursue-and took his leave, John looked about. The small town wasn't anything he really could remember, aside from the small church on the hill. For some reason, he remember it. "There." he pointed.

Scarlett arched a brow; "What about the church then? Looks rather middle-English, and poor no doubt."

John shook his head to the Welshman, "Shut it." was the only thing he said to the Welshman, before walking up the hill, A'Dayle and Scarlett not to far behind. "Ya Welsh bastard." he grinned, before scoffing, now making his way up the hill.

Ontop of the hill, he saw a man with a beekeepers hat on; but he did not know, nor-remember him. The trio made their way up the hill, and had eventually caught up with the man. Upon further inspection, John realized it was the town priest. "This Nottingham?" John asked.

The priest perked his head; "It's is. What be your pleasure gentlemen?" he asked.

"You know where a man can get his some food and drink, Friar?" A'Dayle had spoken up, speaking his truths-as Scarlett nodded in agreement.

"I do." the friar nodded; "Tuck's the name. Beekeeping is the game." he grinned, "-but it'll cost you-two gold pieces. Each." Scarlett and A'Dayle gave the friar their pieces, however John did not.

John tilted his head to the Friar. The name sounded familiar, but he still couldn't place the man. Furrowing his brow a bit, John finally spoke; "Do you know the Little's?" he asked the Friar.

Tuck perked a brow, he remember the name well. Violet played with the little Little boy all of the time. They were attached at the hip, inseparable. "I did." he nodded, unsure of why the bigger man was asking. "What's it to you?" he questioned, now lifting the net from his beekeeping hat; to further inspect the man.

"What do ye know of 'em?" John asked contently. Now moving about-around the horse, giving the Friar his two gold pieces-plus two more.

Tuck looked at the four gold pieces the man had handed him, then looked back at him; "Anything you want to know-." he paused, waiting for the man to state his name.

"John." he replied, with a nod.

Tuck blinked a few times; that changed everything. "Right this way gentlemen." he stated with a nod, before leading the men toward the abbey, "-just so you know. Nothing's free-not even from the church. You work for your hospitality, but feel free to make yourselves at home." Tuck grinned; "-if you need anything, you can ask me, or my daughter. We'll be glad to help, you gentlemen."

Scarlett perked a brow, did the priest just say he had a daughter? What kind of priest was this man? "A daughter? Mind ya sir, but your a priest. I thought you never-you know. Had sexual relations and the likes of such?"

Tuck gave the Welshman a unimpressed look; he knew he had to explain this to the men before him. "I wasn't born a priest you know." the friar replied; "-I had my fair share of fun and love, but that's not important. Not for the likes of you three."

John tilted his head, when the friar said he had a daughter, it brought a curious smirk upon the face of the man. He remember the little girl-and a priest. Together, maybe this friar was somehow connected with the girl that haunted his mind? Turning to Scarlett, John shot the Welshman a glare; "Don't ask stupid questions to a man of the cloth." he turned to Tuck, "Sorry 'bout him, Friar. What do ye need help with?"

Tuck gave a small smirk; he knew what he needed to do. "Dinner." he replied.

* * *

Making her way to the kitchen, she peered into the pot of soup that her father had made a few hour earlier. Taking the wooden spoon out of the pot; she took a small sip. Yes, it needed potatoes. Badly. Making her way to the cabinet which held the potatoes, she opened it, before reaching up and grabbing one. Smelling the potato-out of habit-she took a look at it, before a small smile appeared on her face. It had brought back memories of her childhood; namely of her best friend-whom had moved ten years ago and she hadn't seen or heard of him since.

Titling her head, she manage to gather up some fresh water from one of the buckets inside the kitchen, as she began to wash the potato. She vividly remembered the dark headed boy, 'It's your turn to watch Thomas, Violet.' that made a small chuckle appear on her face. "Thomas?" she said to herself, "Couldn't we have picked a better name?" she shook her head, before walking toward the cabinet, to gather up the kitchen knives.

Then she heard her father calling her name as he entered the kitchen; "This is my daughter, Violet." Tuck stated, as the brunette turned around, potato in hand. "Violet, this gentlemen will be staying with us for a few days; make them feel welcome." the friar nodded.

Violet nodded in agreement to her father, looking at each of the three men. She knew none of them. "Keeping travelers again?" she spoke to her father, whom nodded; "Working for their stay, as well?" she questioned, as he nodded. 


	3. Familiar Faces

**Arthor's Notes**: Many thanks for the lovely reviews. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy. Oh and thought I'd mention; for all information I've gathered from the 'net and various books. Little John's actual name was 'John Little'. Just thought I'd mention that; and I wanted to add a bit more of Allan and Will in this.

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Violet remained in the kitchen as she continued to peel the potato in her hand. She gave the three men in the room just vague glances; not thinking much on their faces. She had figured they were just strangers passing through Nottingham-ones her father allowed to stay with them. She often thought her father thought the abbey was a bed and breakfast-instead of an actual church. "Very well." she finally managed to say, turning her head to the gentlemen behind her-standing rather collectively in the doorway-as her father stood off to the side.

"Make them welcome. I'll be outside finishing up with the bees." Tuck motioned to the men, as he made his way between Scarlett and A'Dayle.

John tilted his head, watching the Friar leave-as the Welshman situated his bow and quiver that laid loosely across his shoulders and on his back. "So-what can we do to help ya Miss Violet, eh?" he stated with a small smug grin.

A'Dayle arched a brow at the Welshman's awkward attempt to be helpful. Since when was Will Scarlett ever helpful? Just a few nights before, he was put on watch-and that ended with them getting ambushed, and getting some of their things stolen. A'Dayle found this annoying and quite pathetic, but he was Longstride nephew-so he figured he HAD to be there. A'Dayle said nothing on the sort out-loud, and nodded politely in the brunette's direction.

"You can start by cleaning up over there." she pointed to the table which had a pile of dishes and things. She gave Scarlett a glance; before looking toward the other two.

"Anything you wish." Scarlett mused, before walking toward the table with a grin on his face. He had a thing with being overly friendly to cute girls he came across-but Violet however was not aware-nor did she care.

A'Dayle looked toward John, as the Scotsman's eyes seem to be transfixed on the potato in her hand. John had found himself vaguely lost in his memories again-the little girl and the potato. He shook his head, he found it impossible for the idea that this was the same girl he barely recalled. A'Dayle looked toward the young woman, whom was arching a curious brow to the men.

"Is your friend alright?" she asked, a bit in an amused tone; as A'Dayle's eyes drifted toward John-as he nudged the big Scot.

John blinked out of his memory, at feeling A'Dayle's elbow nudge him; he shot him a glance then looked toward the friar's daughter; "Aye. Fine." were the only words the Scotsman said to her, a A'Dayle shook his head.

"Good." Violet chuckled a bit, now finished with the potato. She placed the potato on the counter and turned around completely; wiping her hands on her dress, she wasn't a proper woman. She was just a farmer-a peasant. Meant for nothing but living a normal life; however she did hold standards. Her father made sure of that. He was over-protective and a bit overbearing of her; he rarely allowed anyone to court and woo her-feeling that none was good enough for his daughter.

Violet looked toward A'Dayle and smiled; she looked the man over-and saw the musical instrument strapped across his shoulder; "You play, sir?"

"A bit. When I'm well and the muses call me." A'Dayle replied to her.

Violet smiled a bit; before she could hear the ginger-haired Welshman humming behind her as he seemed to be the only one working. A'Dayle gave a small chuckle and shook his head at Scarlett's naive attempts to be helpful and friendly. He found them entertaining, and grinned; "You doing okay there Will? Having fun doing women's work?" he mused, before giving Violet an apologect look.

"Actually I am!" Scarlet grinned, before Violet turned over her shoulder and arched a brow.

She had noticed the biggiest of the trio of men, was not much of conversation. She found this odd; but John on the other hand kept finding himself stuck in his lost childhood memories. Violet shook her head, and turned to A'Dayle; "You friend isn't one for conversation isn't he?"

A'Dayle shrugged; "He's a quiet man." was the only words he spoke, as Scarlett re-approached his friends, bowing to Violet, taking her hand; grinning. Violet gave a confused look as A'Dayle scoffed a bit. "I'll take him off yer hands, ma'am." he stated, before grabbing Scarlett's shoulder, and lead him out of the door.

"Hey! I was jus' bein' friendly with the lovely lady!" he called, in confusion-as he was drug out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

John stood there, tilting his head to the young woman called Violet. Standing there in awkward silence. What A'Dayle had said moments before was true, John was not one for conversation-unless it was something entertaining to him. Taking a deep breath, the managed to relax himself around the young lady. "Ye need more help?" he finally offered, taking a step forward. He paused for a long while, before managing to utter her name, un-surely; "-Violet?" he spoke in a question, wanting to make sure that was her name.

Violet looked up toward the bigger man and nodded; to let him know that was in fact her name. She admitted to herself, that he was intimidating, but by the way he was standing there-he meant no harm to her. Taking a deep breath, she looked toward the door and then toward the man again. "Your friends-namely the ginger-is strange." she shrugged her shoulders before walking past the big man.

She hadn't realized he asked if she needed more help; and went to the peeled potato and began to chop it. She managed to catch glance of him nodding in agreement about her words toward the Welshman; she then finally answered his question; "Not at the moment, no. If you wish to help, you can help peel a few more potatoes." she offered.

Potatoes. That made John go back to thinking about his lost childhood; the one he did not recall clearly. Nodding to Violet; he walked toward the kitchen table, before picking up a new potato. "Heh-potatoes." he mused with himself, before looking at it curiously. 'Thomas.' he recalled the little girl's voice ringing in his head.

Violet looked toward the big man, and arched a brow-chuckling a tad. "You seem rightfully amused with that potato-." she paused, then it hit her-she didn't ask for any of the men for their names. "-what did you say your name was?"

John looked over toward the young woman and nodded; "They call me Little John." he smiled a bit, "-but I'm obviously not little." he said in a calmly amused voice. The smile present on his face read in numbers that he was not a 'big bad guy'; he was anything but.

Violet perked a brow; "What kind of name is that? 'Little John'?" a small snicker escaped her lips; before looking toward him. She didn't think on the past at this moment, it didn't occur to her-the name 'Little John'; it just did not register for her. The name John Little did.

John shook his head; "No. Me name's John. Me mates call me Little John." he nodded to her, now picking up the medium sized knife and began to peel the potato in his hand.

Violet's brow perked. "John? Nice name." she nodded with a smile. Thinking on the little boy she once called her best friend. "Very nice name." She didn't say much more on the name he given her, but the name held much importance to her. John. Yes, it was a nice name; the little boy she thought of had that name-the little boy she once called her best friend.

John gave a faint smile to her and nodded; "Aye, thank ye." He managed to finally peel the potato, before handing it to her. "Yer name seems right nice too." His eyes narrowed in thought, once Violet's hand had took a hold of the potato. He washed over in thought-but only for a short second or two, before snapping out of his moment, looking toward her.

As the moments progressed, they had peeled and placed the potatoes in the bowling pot of water. Violet tilted her head to the man known as John and nodded; "That'll be all. Thank you for your help-John." she paused, as John nodded-before taking his leave.

"If ye need anythin'-" he offered to her, as he stood in the doorway; hand firmly resting on the wooden door panel; giving her a friendly and calm nod.

Violet perked her brow to him and smiled; "I doubt I'll be needing anymore help in the kitchen, but thank you for the offer. Make yourself at home."

A small smile appeared on the big Scotsman's face as he bowed his head and took his leave from the kitchen. Home. A place he longed for and a place he barely recalled. If there was anything Little John could actually recall from his childhood here in Nottingham, it was the little girl's face; her name-he did not recall, no matter how hard he tried to. He didn't remember. The only name he recalled was Thomas-and that was just a silly potato. A silly potato that would hold more importance to him that he realized.


End file.
